


Buzz

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 11:52:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1981962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takao’s not sure why he cares so much about Miyaji’s opinion</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buzz

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 of the 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge by ghiraher on tumblr: Coffee Shop AU

Ootsubo is a large, muscular man who looks as if he should be a bodybuilder or at least some type of sportsman rather than the manager of a small local coffee shop like Shutoku, but then again people have suggested that Takao go into practically a million other fields than what he’s currently majoring in, so perhaps he’s not one to talk. He seems quite personable and organized (Takao had been interviewed by the owner of the shop, Nakatani, who had apparently decided he would be a good fit) and he introduces Takao to the other new employee, Midorima, who is almost as tall as Ootsubo and has green hair and an angry face. Takao grins at him and he scowls harder as he introduces himself—he might be a difficult one.

The other workers are Kimura, a cashier, and Miyaji, who is exclusively a barista—Midorima will be working under Miyaji and Takao under Kimura until they learn the ropes; Ootsubo seems pretty set on them staying like that and Takao tries to hide his disappointment. He’d applied for the job because he thought he’d get to both show off his people skills and make coffee; apparently that’s not going to happen, at least at first. That Midorima guy had better make a really mean cup of coffee if Takao is going to cede this to him.

*

Midorima proves to be not as difficult as expected; he may only have gotten the job because of his magic hands (somehow he always pours it smoother and brews it stronger and makes richer shots. Miyaji’s decided that it’s some kind of black magic and Kimura’s happy and Ootsubo just doesn’t want to deal with any of it, and they probably can’t be bothered too much with either Midorima or Takao. Takao, on the other hand, has taken to walking home with Midorima; they live in the same neighborhood and apparently attend the same college, although Takao is studying journalism and Midorima medicine. Midorima’s awkward and sharp with him, but he’s a pretty interesting guy and it’s not too long before he starts warming a bit. He’s overly superstitious and weird and definitely kind of a dick, but it doesn’t make him a terrible person. He’s just kind of difficult if one doesn’t know how to approach him.

Miyaji, on the other hand, proves impossible. He’s grumpy no matter how much coffee he drinks, perhaps grumpier with every sip, and he seems determined to pick apart everything Midorima and Takao do and tell them what’s wrong with it (and what would be better if they worked harder). It seems like no matter how much they put into their coffee it’s never enough (and Takao saves all his energy for the few times each day he gets a chance at the machines), and Takao’s not sure why he cares so much about Miyaji’s opinion. Miyaji’s pretty scary, but that’s not it—it’s not that simple. If he really wanted, he could hide behind Kimura or Ootsubo (and a few times they’ve come over on their own to yell at Miyaji to not be so tough on them) or deflect attention onto Midorima, but it’s like he wants Miyaji’s attention, craves his approval, and even the yelling is still kind of rewarding. It’s almost like he has a crush on Miyaji—and, okay, Miyaji’s got a really cute baby face that somehow doesn’t clash too much with his long, slender limbs and his floppy hair looks great pulled back into a ponytail, and he’s got an ass that won’t quit and the way the muscles in his back twitch when he’s working intensely at the espresso machine kind of takes Takao’s breath away. So maybe he has a little, tiny crush on Miyaji.

“What the fuck are you looking at?”

“The iced coffee is almost empty.”

“So refill it, Idiot. Don’t just stand there and stare.”

“Shin-chan, switch off with me after lunch, okay? I’ll do the coffee and you can do the register.”

“No,” says Midorima.

Okay, so Midorima’s not completely a walk in the park.

Takao keeps asking and Midorima keeps refusing; his persistence is clearly matched by Midorima’s absolute stubbornness so Takao decides to try a different way.

“Why don’t you want to take the register? It’s not so bad.”

“Because I’m no good with people. You are; I just make the coffee. Why do you want to switch? I thought you preferred the register.”

“I want to get closer to Miyaji-san.”

Midorima stares at him.

Takao shrugs.

“I don’t think that’s the way to do it,” says Midorima.

“Please, please? Do it for me, Shin-chan?”

“Fine, but only because I’m sick of you bothering me about it.”

“Thank you.”

*

Midorima’s words are a self-fulfilling prophecy; there’s a reason Ootsubo had made him exclusively make drinks. He’s not as bad with people as Miyaji but he is hopeless at making small-talk with the customers and completely dense when the high school girls try to flirt with him so they leave him stingy tips. Miyaji grumbles about how slowly Takao is making the drinks and how they’re nowhere smooth enough and okay, maybe this isn’t a good bonding activity after all. He knows nothing more about Miyaji than he did before, only brief glances over at the sweat dripping down his face and the focused frown, the strands of hair slipping from the rubber band, the swiftness of his hands and wrists; they only speak of beans and water and tea leaves and cups and sizes, and even that is rare; they mostly work in a jarring silence.

They switch back after an hour and a half.

*

Takao takes a later lunch than usual the next day, at the same time as Miyaji—the midday crowd is more mellow, anyway; they all order teas and iced coffees; most of the drinks are relatively uncomplicated and they don’t need as many staffers anyway.

“Why are you bothering me?” Miyaji says.

Takao shrugs. “I’m eating my lunch.”

He holds up his sandwich and Miyaji eyes it suspiciously.

“Want a bite?”

“No. I got my own.”

They eat in silence for a bit.

“So.”

“So what?”

“So, uh, read any good books lately?”

“I don’t read.”

“Video games?”

Miyaji shrugs, balling up the aluminum wrapping of his sandwich and tossing it into the trash across the room. “Yeah, I play a bit.”

“Like what?”

“A lot of online strategy games. Team-building stuff, puzzles.”

This is it. They’re clicking. This isn’t the kind of game Takao plays, or even knows much about, but Miyaji’s got a look on his face that’s not quite a frown—it’s not a smile either, but it’s a damn good start.

*

“And he was really getting animated there; it’s too bad the lunch break is so short,” Takao says.

Midorima tilts his head.

Takao sighs. “He’s really cute when he talks about things he loves…I think I like him even more. Oh, man.”

“You…like him?”

Midorima looks as if he expects Takao to deny it to say that it’s not that kind of like, that it’s something else, that Midorima misheard. Is he really that dense? Takao knows he’s not exactly that subtle, and though it’s possible Miyaji himself just thinks Takao is bugging him, he’d expected the way he talks about Miyaji all the time (if only because Miyaji occupies his brain like a fly in the kitchen, buzzing around and reemerging before Takao can get rid of it—he wants to think about something else but just can’t; he’d imagine Miyaji would liken him to a fly in a different sense, of course, but that’s neither here nor there, another consequence of thinking about him so damn much.) would clue Midorima in on his not-so-little crush, but apparently it hasn’t.

“I thought…you wanted to get to know him, annoy him the way you annoy me, that sort of thing.”

“No I don’t. He’s fun to tease, but I want to date him. I want to kiss him. I want to go for a walk with him. I want to—”

“Enough, enough, I get it,” says Midorima.

“So are you going to help me win his heart?”

Midorima blinks. “I don’t think he has a heart.”

Takao laughs. “Shin-chan, you’re horrible.”

“I’m realistic.” He pushes up his glasses.

“So is that a yes?”

“I’ll tell you your horoscope ranking and your sign’s lucky item each day. You’ll need a lot of luck.”

“You don’t believe in me?”

“You must do everything humanly possible to improve your luck.”

That’s probably true.

*

After a week and a half of lucky items and middling rankings, Takao doesn’t see any change—he gets to make coffee a bit more often but he’s actually settling into the cashier’s role, shouting the orders at Midorima and Miyaji from his position and grinning back as they glare at him, coming up to Miyaji with cups and blowing in his ear and walking away as Miyaji yells at him.

Today is different; it’s Midorima’s off day and he’s double-shifted because of Midorima’s absence and the fact that this day is the one weekday he has no classes. Midorima texted him that he’s number one and he’s got the stupid matchbox in his pocket; he’s not a true believer but today might stand a chance if it’s just the two of them and Kimura, Ootsubo being out of town for his cousin’s wedding.

Of course, Kimura calls in sick—it would be nice and cozy if they weren’t about to get hit with the morning rush, just the two of them.

“Well, Kid,” Miyaji says. “It’s a damn good thing there’s so much caffeine around us. You going to be able to handle it?”

Takao gulps. “I’d better be.”

“Right answer,” says Miyaji. “I’ll go unlock.”

Somehow, it works almost seamlessly—Takao takes orders at double the speed, writing them down hastily but neatly enough for Miyaji to read on the cups; Miyaji’s running from machine to machine and heating up enough milk for two lattes at once. Takao does the drip coffee and iced drinks; when the pitchers get low he yells for another and when he’s done taking the next order the right one is already replaced with a fresh one from the back room; he’s barely had enough sensory space to notice Miyaji moving in and out. They take their breaks when they can, sipping fresh black-eyes and sharing croissants during slow times and jumping back to alertness when a fresh customer arrives.

Closing time finally arrives and they clean and shut everything down in record time, still used to the excessively fast pace of the day, and when they’ve taken care of everything Miyaji turns toward him and gives him something close to a genuine smile.

“Good job today, Kid—Takao.”

Takao grins. “Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself.”

“Oi.” Miyaji musses his hair, giving him a halfhearted noogie.

They walk along comfortably, speaking of customers and drinks and Kimura’s illness and their own fatigue. Takao’s never spent a long time looking at Miyaji from this angle before; he really is a lot taller than Takao, maybe fifteen centimeters or so—his face cast into shadow by the streetlights and window lights ahead and behind is lovely; his hair is curling at the end and Takao wants badly to reach out and touch it. His mouth is moving fast but his voice is soft rather than harsh and bitter now, as if the moonlight commands him in some strange way—but if he breathed a word of this aloud Miyaji would probably punch him into next week. But it would be skin-to-skin contact, so at least that’s something. (He’s more than a bit pathetic for thinking this bit, but hey, at least he didn’t say that out loud, either.)

They reach Miyaji’s building, a sturdy old brick thing. Miyaji pauses on the step.

“So this isn’t enough of a hint for you, huh?”

“What?”

“Dumbass, I’m trying to tell you it’s okay to make a move. Anyone could tell how you feel the way you look at me sometimes, and it’s kind of embarrassing, and I’m only going to say this once but it’s also kind of cute because you’re kind of cute and ah, fuck.”

He pulls on the collar of Takao’s shirt and bends his head down and their mouths meet. It’s sloppy and Miyaji’s still muttering curses against Takao’s tongue, but it’s fucking amazing anyway.


End file.
